LITMIR.BIZ

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won’t,” she squeaked, looking down as she spoke.

      “Better not, because all you got for family is that grandmother of yours. Unless of course you want to go back to Daddy! What do you think dear old Grandma would say if she got all those cute little pictures of you and the doggie in the mail?”

      Marcie’s face turned white. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t utter a sound.

      Red’s voice softened. “Look, I’m not hard to get along with. I just don’t like the idea of anyone rippin’ me off. The guys I pay for protection? They’re all with Satans Wrath, and now you owe them, too. If you tried to fuck off on them, do you know what they’d do?”

      Marcie shook her head, staring tearfully at Red.

      “First they’d kill your grandma, ’cause she’d be easy to find. Then they’d track ya down and rip the guts right out of ya. There’s no place ya can hide. They got guys all over the world!”

      Marcie didn’t answer. She stood, looking straight ahead, tears dripping from her cheeks.

      It was late Friday afternoon, but Sid Bishop waited patiently and smiled warmly when Bart and Rex walked through the doors of the Department of Justice. Most people had gone home, but Sid was the group head of the department. He hated drug traffickers with a passion and was more than willing to wait and review the wiretap application.

      Sid refused to admit it, but he actually feared drug traffickers. And the more he feared them, the harder he worked to deny that fear. It was a vicious circle. The harder he worked, the more he had to fear. He was also starting to drink more.

      Bart tossed a large manila envelope on his desk. Sid waited until both men sat down before talking. “You said on the phone that this involves Satans Wrath.”

      “It’s all in there,” said Bart. “Rex and I turned an informant. We’ve had him make a couple of buys while we watched to verify everything. He’s been buying quantities of speed from a guy who goes by the name of Halibut. Through our guy, Halibut has been supplying all the speed to the Black Water Hotel.”

      “This Halibut is a member of Satans Wrath, is he?”

      “He’s been striking for the club for two years. He’s still on probation, but I expect he’ll be getting his full colours soon.”

      “Colours?”

      “Yeah, his patch. The cutoff jackets they wear. Right now he only has British Columbia written on the bottom. It’s what they call the bottom rocker. Once he’s done strikin’, the full name of the club and their skull emblem gets sewn on, too.”

      Without so much as a glance at Bart and Rex, Sid opened a large drawer on the side of his desk and removed three glasses and a bottle of Courvoisier. He told Bart to pour while he opened the envelope.

      Eventually Sid looked up. “Nobody has caught any of these miscreants for a long time. If you’re successful, I’ll take you both out salmon fishing.”

      Bart and Rex smiled and clinked glasses. It was no secret that Sid’s parents were extremely wealthy and had left him with a fortune when they died. Sid enjoyed life to the fullest. He lived on an acreage of oceanfront property northwest of the city and owned a cabin cruiser. Sid welcomed guests, and parties at his place were notoriously good. The haunt was secluded enough that police and prosecutors alike could unwind without facing the disapproval of a critical public. Bart was more than glad to be invited.

      Last year Sid had contributed $20,000 to the Heart and Stroke Foundation. When asked why he still worked, Sid would say that it was for the sheer pleasure of putting bad guys in jail — a trait that Bart both respected and admired.

      Sid told them that there would have to be some grammatical changes and rewriting of a few paragraphs concerning the reliability of the informant, but overall it looked good.

      Sid was scheduled to start a trial on Monday but promised to burn the midnight oil and assured them that he would work on it over the weekend. If all went as planned, they should have it before a judge by Monday or Tuesday. Sid stared at the bottle of Courvoisier when they left. It occurred to him that he was beginning to despise alcohol as much as drug traffickers.

      Damien sat at a table outside, overlooking the marina. He nodded for Wizard to sit down, and the waiter hurried over.

      Wizard ordered a Grandview Island Stout. It was a local beer, one he preferred over the imports.

      Damien waited until the waiter left before asking, “So what’s The Suit’s problem?”

      Wizard shrugged indifferently. “Not a big problem. Just a rodent.”

      “In-house or out?”

      “Gnawing outside one of the striker’s houses. Halibut’s place.”

      “Take care of it personally and be sure to advertise why.”

      “Why me?”

      “Involves The Suit. The fewer who know, the better. Use Rolly as well.”

      “I want a driver.”

      “That’s fine.”

      “I’ll use Lance. He’s —”

      “Shut the fuck up. I don’t need to hear all the details.”

       chapter fifteen

      Danny walked toward the Black Water and saw Crystal talking to Marcie in an alcove. He stopped and pretended to tie his shoelace.

      “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” said Crystal, sounding angry.

      “I had a burger last night at suppertime,” she whined.

      “A burger! That’s no good for ya! Ya gotta start lookin’ after yourself better. Go an’ get yourself a decent meal, for fuck’s sake!”

      “I can’t. I haven’t made any money yet. Red’s gonna be real pissed at me.”

      “Fuck Red! She’s a bitch. You should move out and come live with me.”

      “I can’t. Red won’t let me go until I pay up what I owe her. She would find me and —”

      “Yeah, I know. I owe her too. But you’re only twelve years old, for fuck’s sake. You shouldn’t be out here.”

      “I’m almost thirteen. My birthday is a week tomorrow.”

      “Like that makes a big fuckin’ difference. They got ya hooked yet? Are ya usin’?”

      Marcie looked down at her feet as she spoke. “I’ve tried it a few times, but I’m no junkie. I can handle it. I only use it, like, maybe two or three times a week.”

      “Goddamn it! You can’t handle it. Believe me, I know! My little sister died with a spike in her arm. She told me she could handle it, too!”

      Danny couldn’t hear Marcie’s reply, but he had no problem hearing Crystal.

      “Bullshit! Soon it’ll be two or three times a day, then six times a day!”

      Marcie didn’t respond. Crystal grabbed her by the arm and said, “Come on, I’m takin’ ya to buy you some dinner. You’re as small as a mouse. In fact, I think that’s what I’m gonna start callin’ ya. Mouse!”

      As Crystal led Marcie away, she glared at Danny. He quickly stood up and entered the tavern. He saw Red sitting near the pool tables and took a seat where he could discreetly watch. He saw Leonard walk over and say something to her. She laughed and slapped him on the arm. Leonard then walked over to the rear door and disappeared outside.

      Red stared after Leonard as he left. When the door banged shut, she held up her hand and cupped her fingers to her palm a couple of times as she waved goodbye. It was how a little girl would wave. It didn’t suit her.

      Minutes later, Jack entered

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